


A Promise Made, A Debt Unpaid

by Muccamukk



Series: Dying Days [3]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Iron Man (Comic), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers Vol. 1 (1963), Avengers Vol. 3 (1998), Canon Temporary Character Death, Getting Together, Goodbyes, Love Confessions, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:45:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7406074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve finds out that he has only hours left to live, he tries to say his farewells where he can. When he finds himself alive again, he has to work out what the consequences of those goodbyes might be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "The Cremation of Sam McGee" by Robert Service. Last sentence of chapter one from _Captain America_ #443 by Mark Gruenwald.
> 
> Written as a fill for the Stony Bingo picture square with USA-themed armour.
> 
> Canon notes: Our story starts toward the end of Cap Vol 1, wherein the super soldier serum has started to give out, wasting Steve's body. He's already had one heart attack, and Tony has made him armour so that he can get around. A few weeks after that, a character named Black Crow randomly appears and equally randomly tells Steve that he has twenty four hours left to live, and Steve starts running around trying to tie up all his loose ends. This is where I pick up the tale.
> 
> This story contains temporary character death, as per canon (it was Steve's turn that year), and a good deal of illness and angst about illness. Everyone gets better.

Steve hovered above Stark Enterprises, unsure of what he wanted to do. He would have thought that knowing he had about fifteen hours to live would have made everything clear, all his decisions easy, but he'd spent the last seven of them bashing about not knowing where he was going next. He's made too many connections in the eight years since he'd woken from the ice, for good and ill, and now he had no feel for prioritising who to contact now and who to leave to his will. He should have done this weeks ago, after his first heart attack, but he hadn't been able to admit that he really was going to die, that after all his adventures, this really was the end.

Funny how easily he believed Black Crow's prophecy, though. Maybe he had really accepted it. And if he was going to die, there were some things he couldn't leave unsaid.

"I'm not getting any younger," he muttered, and settled on the roof. SE's security system recognised his armour and let him into the elevator, and the secretary on the intercom informed him that Mr. Stark was in his office, and would be able to see him. He gathered from her tone that she was shuffling a day's worth of appointments around him as she spoke, but couldn't bring himself to feel bad. Everyone else could see Tony tomorrow; Steve could not.

Tony was leaning back in his chair with his feet on his desk, and a cloth over his eyes. The blinds were closed and the lights low, casting the office in shadow, but even in the dark, he looked almost as tired as Steve felt. Steve remembered that Force Works and War Machine had just been involved in some huge fight in China, and Tony had only just gotten back.

"Can you give me ten, Mrs A.?" Tony asked plaintively.

Steve almost said he would come back later, but of course that was a lie. He had one chance, and that was all. All those years of war and friendship come down to a single visit.

"This won't take long," he said gently, making Tony scramble upright. "I just wanted to..." he hesitated, trying to work out what he'd said to Sam, to his team, but the words wouldn't come, "I just wanted to talk."

"Pardon?" Tony was still rubbing his eyes and blinking, "Oh, Steve. Yes, of course, as much time as you need. How's your armour doing? You haven't been in for adjustments lately." 

"It's been working just fine, Shell-head," Steve said. "I don't think I could ever thank you enough for making it for me. The weeks it's given me..." he couldn't think of a way to finish. They'd largely been weeks he'd wasted, he knew. He hoped he'd done some good in South America, at least, and he was painfully glad not to have died in the dirt pleading to God to spare him. Even though Hank had eventually found him, Steve didn't think the haunted feeling of screaming for help yet knowing he was alone and unheard would ever quite leave him. He hadn't thought he was that much of a coward, but he'd never been that close to the end, either. It wasn't an easy thing to know about oneself, and he was determined to handle it more gracefully this time.

He realised that he'd fallen silent, and that Tony was watching him curiously, leaning forward on his desk so that he could peer at Steve in the dimly-lit office. "Steve," he asked, drawing the word out, "what's going on?"

"I..." Words failed Steve, and he felt a sudden wave of irritation at himself. _Coward_ , he thought again. Stalling for time, he settled in the chair across from Tony. When he took his helmet off, he had to wave off Tony's alarmed look. "I can do without the life support for a few minutes," he said.

"It's not good for you," Tony replied mulishly. "You're not getting enough oxygen on your own."

A wave of fondness overwhelmed Steve, and he had to swallow before he could say, "No one's fought for me like you have, Tony. You've been trying to find knew ways to keep me alive for weeks, and I'm grateful. It means more than I can say, knowing I have you in my corner. But you can't stop death, and I wanted to see your face without this blasted visor in the way." He didn't have to say that it was for the last time; Tony paled and reached across the desk to take Steve's gauntlet between his hands.

"We'll figure something out," he promised. "I swear Steve, I won't–"

"Tony," Steve said, voice as gentle as it had been when he first came in and found Tony sprawled in exhaustion. "This is the end. I've had a good run, and I've made my legacy. It's time to say my goodbyes."

"I won't believe that," Tony insisted fiercely. He was holding onto Steve so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, yet Steve didn't feel a thing.

More than anything else in the world, Steve wanted to take him in his arms and kiss away his troubles. He'd wanted that for years, but it had never seemed like the right time. Now it was too late, and he regretted all the chances they could have had. "Tony," he said again. "Let me do this. I don't have long now, and I don't want to waste my last few hours fighting you." Already his breath was getting short, and he could feel his heart racing. He's have to put the helmet back on soon. This was his last chance. "I need to tell you how much you've meant to me, how grateful I am for everything you've done. You pulled me out of the ice, and gave me a home and a reason to live, and even if we haven't always seen eye to eye, when I've needed you, you've been there."

"Cap," Tony said, but just shook his head. He was blinking hard, and Steve wished he could make this easier on him, while at the same time feeling perversely glad that Tony cared enough to weep for him. Tony cleared his throat, and started again, "Cap, it was my singular honour. But I won't accept that–"

Maybe it was just the lack of oxygen making him giddy, or years of wanting, or just wanting Tony to shut up and accept what was going to happen, or maybe he just wanted to. Whatever the cause, Steve stood, pushing the chair back, leaned across the desk, and kissed Tony on the mouth. 

Tony's lips parted in surprise and Steve got too much moustache, then their teeth knocked together, but their lips met properly after that, with Tony tipping his head and sucking at Steve's lip, both his hands still clutching Steve's gauntlet. Steve felt his heart fill with love and wished that it could last forever, that he could bury his bare hands in Tony hair, and strip his cloths off and lie with him right there on the desk. Only the time for that had passed. Steve had missed his chance, and now he couldn't breath, and had to pull away and slump back into his seat. 

"Wow," Tony said, still leaning half across the table. He licked his lips. "What was that?"

Steve shook his head. He knew he needed to put his helmet back on before he passed out on Tony's carpet, but he couldn't stand seeing the steel face mask between them. "Call it a dying man's last wish," he said weakly.

"Okay," Tony said. His face clouded, and he pushed away to lean back in his chair. "You kissing everyone goodbye?"

"Just you, Tony," Steve said, and now he had to put his helmet back on. The rush of oxygen made him feel momentarily better, but he could still feel his body winding down, and hear the pounding of his heart as it struggled to keep up with what his body asked of it. Every move felt like a struggle against thickening cement. Black Crow was right: he didn't have long now. He was so tired. "I know you probably don't feel the same, and I'm sorry to leave you with that, but I didn't want to die not having had the guts to tell you that I loved you."

"That's a hell of a thing," Tony said, voice strained. Was he angry now? Christ, Steve hadn't thought that Tony was... well, he's always seemed so liberal-minded. Still, even if Tony hated him, he was selfish enough to be glad to die with one fewer thing shadowing his heart.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I'll... I guess I'll go now. I want to see if the old team was around, before I... Before." He got to his feet, slow even with the exoskeleton doing most of the work. "Goodbye, Tony, and thank you. I mean it."

He turned to go, but Tony was out from behind the desk and standing in front of him before he took a step, arms folded, and still looking furious.

"Steve," he snapped, "you can't do this. How can you just roll over and give up?"

Steve couldn't think what to say except, "It's my time, Tony."

"How can you say that? How can you kiss me and then just go off to die?" He put a hand on the shoulder, to steady himself, and Steve rocked back a step. "At least let me try modify the suit again. I'm sure I can augment the life support and–"

As carefully as he could, Steve cupped Tony's face with his armoured hand. "I'll come by tomorrow, all right? I need to rest now." When Tony started to say something else, Steve shook his head and stepped around him. He couldn't force Tony to make his farewells if he didn't want to, and it would be selfish to try. He didn't look back as he left, and didn't answer Tony's hails as he flew to the Avengers mansion.

A few hours later, as he lay down to rest in his old room, the room Tony had provided for him when he'd first woken from the ice all those years ago, Steve wished that Tony had given him better answer. However, that was just one regret of many; Steve had left so many things left undone, unresolved, unsettled.

He thought, with an unexpected burst of clarity as the room faded out around him: _Let my epitaph read, "He didn't do enough."_


	2. Chapter 2

When Steve came back to life, he was on the run with of all people Sharon Carter and the Red Skull, and then he was facing treason charges, and then Immortus turned Tony against the Avengers and Tony apparently died, and then the team battled Onslaught and went away to that other universe and their other selves, and when they finally got back and were alive again, Steve had to deal with Hydra, and Tony was neck deep in legal wrangling, and they all ended up fighting Morgan Le Fay, so they didn't get a chance to talk, just the two of them, for months. He absolutely had not been avoiding Tony, at all.

* * *

Steve lay on his bed in the mansion, arm thrown over his eyes. He supposed he should get up and do any one of a hundred things, finding a new apartment being the top of the list, but couldn't seem to motivate himself. He felt like a cad for sulking about losing his shield, when everyone else had lost so much, but dammit it had been like a friend, one he'd known for longer than just about anyone still alive. He decided he'd give himself another hour of self pity, then get up and face the world.

The tentative knock on the door made him groan, and but when he heard Tony's voice on the other side of the door, he pushed himself up and scrubbed his hands over his face before telling him to come in.

"Sorry to bother you, Cap," Tony was hovering near the door, still in his armour but with the face mask open. He was starting to grow in a goatee again, but so far the effect was patchy, and unintentionally piratical.

"No, it's okay, anytime." Steve tried to demonstrate his enthusiasm by swinging his feet to the floor and gesturing Tony onto the chair, which creaked but held as he sat. "What can I do for you, Shell-head?"

Now that the door was closed behind them, Tony pulled his helmet off, settling it on his lap. "I wanted to say I was sorry about your shield. I know it meant a lot to you."

Oh, so that was all. "Thanks," Steve said, feeling even more dismal to have it acknowledged. "I shouldn't be so–" he started, then sighed. "President Roosevelt gave it to me."

"I know. I've got Rhodey looking for it now," Tony said. He was looking at Steve with wide, hopeful eyes, but all Steve could think of was how much ocean there was, and how impossible it would be for even Tony Stark to find a three-foot piece of metal in it. "In the meantime, I can try making you a new one, if you like. It won't be the same, but..."

"Thanks, Tony," Steve said, feeling tired again, but trying to summon up some kind of enthusiasm in the face of Tony's obvious desire to cheer him up. "I'd appreciate that. I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, with your company and everything." Tony had just announced _yet another_ iteration of his technologist career, and was in the middle of the media feeding frenzy and legal battles surrounding it. Steve had no idea how he managed to work with the Avengers, let alone help with his shield.

"I always have time for you, Steve, you know that." He was studying at his helmet as though he suspected it had a flaw, and no longer met Steve's eyes. "Which, uh, brings me to something else I wanted to talk to you about. I've been meaning to for a while, but, well, you know what it's been like."

Steve felt his stomach clench in anticipation. There weren't a lot of looming topics that Tony could be taking so seriously, and even though it had been months, Steve had yet to shake the feel of that kiss. "Sure," he said, "it's been busy."

Tony hesitated, again looking down at his helmet. "I just wanted you to know that when you came to SE, right before you... well, before, with your armour, I wasn't controlled by Immortus then. He got his claws into me later."

"Oh," Steve said. He hadn't even considered that, having been either dead or on the run for most of those events, but it must have been worrying Tony for some time. "I'm relieved to hear it," he added, since thought that was what Tony wanted him to say. "Look, Tony, about that talk–"

He let Tony stop him with an outstretched hand. It was only fair; Steve had been the one kissing people, very probably without welcome, thinking he wouldn't have to deal with the consequences; Tony should get the first say as to what he thought of that. Tony, who still hadn't met his eyes, and now he was blushing. Steve couldn't think of the last time he'd seen Tony Stark blush. Steve had no idea why he'd thought deathbed confessions had been a good idea. If Tony had been interested, he would have let Steve know years ago, and Steve had no place pushing himself on him.

"I know that you were under a lot of pressure that day," Tony said. Oh God, he was excusing Steve. "Plus your suit was on the blink, the life support systems, and I was tired, and in shock and not willing to admit what was happening, so I don't think I responded as well as I could have." Each word ground into Steve's gut and made his heart pound. His face felt hot and he knew that by now he must be flushed to the roots of his hair. Tony braced his helmet between his knees so that he could scrub his hands through his hair, gauntlets or not. "What I'm trying to say," he continued, abruptly changing tone to one of forced heartiness, "is that I don't hold you to what you said then. I know you didn't really mean it, and well," he tried to laugh, but the smile looked like a death's head, "if anyone knows about about not being themselves..."

"Stop it, Tony," Steve snapped. "That's not funny. It never was. I hate what they did to you." He hated more that Tony had thought he'd had to die to redeem himself, when it hadn't been his fault, but he'd tried that tack before, and run into a wall. Still, Steve had never been one to let a barrier stop him when he could smash his head through it, so he concluded with, "You didn't do anything wrong."

Tony answered with a tiny shake of his head, almost trying to rattle something loose, then waved the whole subject away. "Anyway, I'm awkwardly trying to make sure things aren't awkward between us. I think maybe you think I'll hold a little kiss against you, and I wouldn't dream of it, even if it was a very nice little kiss, so..." a shrug, "...partners, partner?"

That last had been teasing in the old way Tony had used to try to make Steve blush, and it was the out he'd thought he'd wanted. All he had to say was, "Sure, partner," and add a little apology about lack of oxygen making him goofy, and they'd stay the same way they'd always been: friends and teammates.

Steve remembered what he'd called himself before he'd kissed Tony, a coward, and how much he'd hated that about himself, how much he'd wanted to be something better, the man everyone thought he was.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Listen, Tony," he hesitated, and plunged on, "let me speak my piece, and after if you still want, I'll write the whole day off to stress or oxygen deprivation, and we can forget about it. All right?"

"Okay," Tony said, but he was staring at his helmet again, or at his hands folded on top of it, and he clearly expected Steve to say something awful.

Steve had to kneel on the floor to catch Tony's eye, and after he did, he found he liked it down there: his hands on Tony's knees, neck bent to look up at him. When he finally got a look at Tony's face, he saw not only fear, but just a little of the same wide-eyed hopefulness that he had before, and it gave him the courage to tell Tony, "I did know what I was saying. I kissed you because I wanted to. I do love you. I've loved you for years."

Tony's breath hitched when he drew it in, and he blinked hard. When he'd done that, he reached down and oh so carefully rested his armoured hands on either side of Steve's face, tilted his head back, and kissed him tentatively on the mouth. Steve was ready, lips parted, and when the tip of Tony's tongue touched his teeth, he opened his mouth to him. He moaned as Tony kissed him hard and deep, and whimpered when Tony bit his lip and then sucked lightly at the same place. Steve's heart was beating hard and strong and he could feel his blood singing in his ears and his cock filling, all from just a kiss.

They were both still in their uniforms, but Steve started to pull off his shirt; he wanted to be naked in front of Tony, to offer Tony his whole self.

"Christ," Tony said when he pulled away at last. "You could have said that in the first place."

"I should have said that years ago," Steve answered. The mail of his shirt rattled as it hit the floor, and he started on his undershirt. "I didn't think you were interested."

"Yeah, well, we're both idiots," Tony said, his mouth half an inch from Steve's earlobe, which he then nipped. Steve closed his eyes in pleasure."But we knew that."

Steve couldn't argue with that, but found he couldn't let it go either. "I thought you were angry at me," he said, still trying to explain.

Tony stopped, taking Steve's shoulders, armour giving his hold weight. "I was furious," he told Steve, "but not about that. You were just giving up, on life, on me, and the whole damn world, and I couldn't do a thing about it."

"We're both idiots," Steve echoed, sincerely. "Love me anyway?" he asked, not caring how much he sounded like he was fishing.

"Obviously," Tony replied, "and in light of recent events, I've decided that I'm not going to wait until either one of us is dying to show you how much."

Steve laughed, then he let Tony strip him naked and make love to him right there on the floor. He'd waited long enough.


End file.
